


Rare and Beautiful

by Kalira



Series: Plants and Piracy in the Age of Steam [1]
Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, First Meetings, Kei Yuki/Yattaran | Yullian (background), M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Yama may be the one on a research expedition, but Harlock may be the one bringing the rarest and most beautiful of things back to his ship. . .(Yama might argue this. He'sveryinvested in his work with plants, after all.)
Relationships: Harlock/Yama | Logan
Series: Plants and Piracy in the Age of Steam [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097099
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Rare and Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikkimouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/gifts).



> This was written for mikkimouse as part of [Fandom Trumps Hate](https://fandomtrumpshate.dreamwidth.org/profile); thank you so much for both your generosity and your patience! It was such fun to explore this world a little more, and finally tell the beginning of (this world's version) these boys' story. I hope you are pleased with it!

Harlock slipped through the shadowy, richly green space under the trees, breathing in the heavy scent of the jungle and feeling the wet air settle in his chest. He closed his eye as he paused, feeling the strange lack of the Arcadia’s thrumming beneath his boots and listening for the out-of-place shriek of a bird that most definitely didn’t belong among these trees.

The pull of his ship was like a beacon behind him, of course, but that wasn’t what he was looking for and he did his best to put it out of his mind.

A rustling noise made him look up, and he just caught the flicker of dark feathers swooping through the canopy, impossibly slender neck weaving through the thick leaves.

“Tori-san!” Harlock barked, bolting into a run after Tori-san even as he swept out of sight, threading between broad trunks and slipping occasionally over thick moss as ferns and creepers caught at his boots. _Probably_ Harlock knew where he was heading - there was a small grove that was almost impossible to find if you didn’t know where it was, filled with fruiting and flowering trees Tori-san enjoyed.

Tori-san screeched a taunt and Harlock was hard-pressed, momentarily, to remember he actually _liked_ the dratted bird as he twitched in startlement and his boots slid over tumbled rocks. He leapt off the shallow slope, catching his stride again as he hurried onwards, only to pull up short at an entirely different shriek.

“What are you _doing_?”

Harlock froze as a skinny man in dark browns and greens climbed to his feet right in front of Harlock, gesturing emphatically.

He was so shocked, it took Harlock a moment to realise the man was brandishing a pistol, eye caught by the flickering glass globe set above the grip, trapped lightning dancing within it.

“You absolutely _crushed_ that saxatile pinus asparagales stelliforiceae!”

Harlock blinked, a confused sound catching in his throat. _What?_

He looked down and found a bowed stalk beneath one boot, and crumpled leaves around his feet. Certainly, however, nothing that looked like- “I crushed asparagus?”

“ _No!_ ” the man shouted, lifting the pistol a little higher.

“Sorry, sorry! What?” Harlock asked again, shifting carefully backwards.

“Do you have any idea how _rare_ this is?” the man cried, going to his knees as Harlock stepped back. “How _delicate_? I haven’t even _seen_ one in person in over a decade and you! You with your- _Boots_ and your _neglectful destruction_ , you’ve potentially set back _decades_ of new growth! I will certainly be unable to take a cutting to attempt further propagation and _this_ plant may never even recover from the damage!”

“You’re threatening me . . . over a plant?” Harlock repeated, looking at the pistol, which had sagged as the man sadly stroked the bowed - broken, Harlock saw now he wasn’t standing on it, and winced - plant with his free hand, the plant itself, which looked vaguely familiar and not at all like it was worth this much fuss, and then down at himself.

He looked the same as he had that morning - every morning - and . . . not generally the type of figure that was held at gunpoint by skinny, lone . . . botanists.

“Do you know how long I’ve been _searching_ for a saxatile pinus asparagales stelliforiceae?” the man sounded terribly sad now rather than angry, fingertips brushing over bruised leaves, then one sealed-up bud.

“You’re threatening me over a plant.” Harlock said again, surer. The man looked up, stunning eyes catching Harlock’s. “. . .would you forgive me,” Harlock began, shifting his feet carefully, “if I helped you find a _new_ one?”

The man stared at him, eyes wide. Harlock ran his fingers idly over his gravity sabre’s hilt.

“A new one.”

Harlock tensed. “Yes?”

“Just like that.”

Harlock frowned slightly. “I didn’t say-”

“I’ve been searching for three years!” the man glared, leaning closer as though he might shield the already-damaged sapling. “Expeditions from my university have been looking for twenty years!”

Harlock blinked. “Well. It’s not . . . _unfamiliar_. Those buds will be pale blue flowers? Six petals? Kind of spiky?”

The man froze, his fingers just above one bud. There were three lying across the rocks, but none of them had bloomed. “There’s another one?” he asked, voice raw.

“Not here.” Harlock hedged, then raised a hand in a restrained gesture. “I can’t swear to it that it’s your . . . saxatile pines asparagus. But I have seen one that looks like that, with silvery blue flowers like little stars.”

“You’ve _seen_ \- Not this one?”

“I’ve never seen this one before.” Harlock said truthfully. But if it _was_ the same plant. . .

On a hidden island that was very tricky to sail to - at least without a very clever ship; Harlock was unaccustomed to having difficulty _wherever_ he wished to sail - there was a little lagoon Harlock thought of almost as his own private place. Even if one made it to the island, it was almost impossible to reach on foot, the growth around it too thick for even light steam flyers to make it through, and something in the rock below disrupted mag engines. No one else had found it, to his knowledge, in the years he had been visiting there himself.

And along the way to it - one path Harlock had taken, as there _was_ no true path - there was a plant that looked . . . as like to this one as he could tell. Harlock liked plants but he had never studied them, not even so much as Tochiro.

“Where?” The man started to bolt to his feet, then checked himself, reaching out to his crushed sapling again. “You can show me?”

“Not here,” Harlock gestured in the direction of the island, out across the ocean, “but I could show you. I know the island well enough, though there are no maps; it doesn’t even have a name.”

“. . .not here.” He looked crestfallen. “I can’t . . . they’ll barely wait for me to finish _here_ , they wouldn’t go to another island only for my part of the expedition.”

Harlock frowned, glancing in the direction he had looked. “I can take you.” he said, looking back down as the man started to steady the cracked sapling with gentle hands, fishing in his pocket and coming out with a roll of twine. “On my ship.” Harlock clarified.

Harlock crouched and caught the twine as it bounced away from suddenly-slack fingers, offering it back. The man looked up, fingers brushing Harlock’s as he accepted the twine, his eyes wide.

“You’d. . . You would do that?”

“Well,” Harlock looked at the pitiful sapling, “I did cause the trouble myself.”

“Hmph. You did.” It wasn’t so angry or upset this time, and Harlock thought there might even be a hint of a smile on full lips. “You can help me here then. Hold this.” He pressed the twine back into Harlock’s hands and cut a length, carefully securing the sapling into an upright position once more, supporting it against the rock, bolstered by a slender branch wedged into a crack near its roots.

“You’re a botanist?” Harlock guessed, watching his fine boned hands work, and he paused.

“Oh! Yes. I’m Yama.” The introduction was accompanied by a faint flush and another smiling glance.

“Harlock.” Harlock returned. “I, and the Arcadia, are at your disposal.”

Yama flushed a little more, dipping his head slightly, and Harlock quietly offered a spare pair of hands to steady things until he sat back on his heels, inspecting the sapling in its newly secured place.

Yama collected his forgotten pistol from the rocks at his side and allowed Harlock to offer him a hand back to his feet. “What were you doing racing through here anyway?” he asked, frowning and tilting his head to one side.

Harlock opened his mouth, and Tori-san swooped out of the canopy, circling them and settling on Harlock’s shoulder.

“. . .chasing him.” Harlock said, glaring at his bird. Tori-san leaned his long neck around and shrieked in Harlock’s face. “Done escaping, are you?”

Tori-san shifted his feet, making an innocent trilling noise, and remained as though rooted on Harlock’s shoulder. He snorted.

“. . .I see.” Yama said, looking amused. Harlock huffed.

Harlock helped him up the rocky slope and headed back towards where the Arcadia was moored - far nearer the shore than any ship of its size should be able, but Tochiro rarely allowed any such petty concerns to hinder him. Along the way Yama quizzed him about the plant Harlock remembered; what it looked like in detail, where it grew, the conditions around it - pulling far more out of Harlock’s memory than he would have thought he could recall.

He paused as they stepped out of the trees within sight of the Arcadia. “Do you need to return to the rest of your crew, your ship? Collect your belongings?”

“I have everything I need to see to the sapling and take a cutting with me.” Yama said, touching the strap of the satchel he carried. “Is that your ship? When will you leave?”

“Yes.” Harlock smiled slightly, eye sweeping over the dark lines of his ship, his dearest friend. “We’ll cast off as soon as I’m on board - if you are ready, Yama.”

“Let’s go then!” Yama said happily, moving on ahead towards the Arcadia.

Harlock shook his head, a little surprised, but followed after Yama in long strides, catching up easily. Tori-san squawked on his shoulder, talons tightening, though Harlock only barely felt it beneath his cloak and heavy shirt.

The Arcadia’s gangplank extended on its own as they approached, Tochiro murmuring a wordless greeting in the back of Harlock’s mind with a thrum of curiosity.

Yama crossed the plank with an easy stride which perhaps shouldn’t have surprised Harlock - he must, after all, have come here on a ship - but he _was_ an academic. The gangplank pulled back on Harlock’s heels, sliding into place as the railing rose.

“Captain! Welcome back ab- Captain?” Yattaran eyed Yama dubiously.

“Thank you, Yattaran. We’re escorting Yama on a small side trip.” Harlock tipped his head towards their guest, returning Tochiro’s curious mental prod by habit, then allowing him to see the memory of the plant Yama wanted, the one Harlock had crushed and then the one - he thought - he could bring Yama to find.

The Arcadia surged with excitement, Tochiro humming happily at the back of Harlock’s mind.

Yattaran followed them as Harlock rested a hand on Yama’s back, guiding him across the deck. “. . .we are?” Yattaran asked, not quite pointed but strong enough not to be ignored.

Harlock raised his other hand, and the Arcadia ticked quietly, water rushing around the hull as they began to cast away from the island. The sounds of boots thumping on the boards came up from beneath the deck as the crew responded to the ship’s motion, not that they were strictly _needed_ for the Arcadia to be on its way.

“You have a fine ship.” Yama observed, trailing his fingers along one of the shielded traceries of the current that kept the Arcadia in motion as they descended belowdecks.

Harlock scowled as the Arcadia hummed beneath his hand.

The ship sank lower in the water as they pulled away from the shore, and the clouded windows low on the hull began to clear, showing a view below the surface that stretched for a shockingly long way. Yama stilled, then drifted towards one of the panels as the Arcadia picked up speed, fingers splaying over the window as he made a low sound of wonder. Tochiro preened in the back of Harlock’s mind, and he tried not to laugh.

“My engineer, the one who built this ship with me,” Harlock said softly, “had . . . a great love of the depths, and of those who dwell there. We built it to explore those mysteries.”

“And a respect that allowed him passage.” Miime said softly behind them. “And you, also, Harlock.”

Yama twitched, turning slowly, and made a stifled sound as his eyes widened. Harlock dipped his head to Miime as she inspected their new guest, then drifted away on silent feet, her hair flowing around her as though she were in the water that was her element, the low light glimmering off her scales in the few places her suit bared them.

“An honour I never disregard.” Harlock returned, and felt more than heard Miime’s soft hum. “Miime chose,” Harlock looked back at Yama, finding him staring after Miime, not unexpectedly, “a long time ago, to make her home aboard the Arcadia with us.”

“I had heard stories of the merfolk in the wildest seas, but I had never thought to see one myself . . . much less aboard a ship.” Yama said, turning slowly to look back up at Harlock as Miime moved further away, still utterly silent.

“My engineer - my friend,” Harlock amended, throat tightening for a moment, “made . . . many impossible things possible.”

The Arcadia ticked louder around them, and the water rushed as they picked up speed. Tori-san launched off Harlock’s shoulder, his caws echoing painfully off the hull as he soared away.

“I should see to setting our course.” Harlock said, glancing at the nearest panel and finding a starburst of fleeing fish just visible there. He gestured further down the passageway. “Shall I show you to a bunk you can use, first?” Yama nodded, and Harlock slid a hand over his shoulder and nudged him along.

Guiding Harlock to the already-prepared bunk with a gentle mental nudge, Tochiro opened the door as they approached, the locks clicking and the lights coming up in a gentle, faintly blue-green glow that did nothing to foul the view through the window panels that made up most of one wall. Harlock kicked the doorframe pointedly and ignored the burble of his best friend’s amusement in his mind.

Yama slid off his satchel and left it on the narrow bed, moving towards the outer wall of the hull with an enraptured look on his face.

“They can be shielded if you are uncomfortable with them.” Harlock said, though he highly doubted it would be necessary. Yama smiled over his shoulder, offering thanks and then looking back at the ocean around them, the rush of water.

Harlock forced himself to step back, heading back up to the deck, and further, to the wheel. Tochiro was already tacking towards the nameless little island, of course, the rigging glimmering with energy as the sails rippled into new angles before the crew could reach them.

“Eager.” Harlock said quietly, sinking into the thronelike chair near the wheel, watching it turn on its own.

Tochiro flashed his own memory of the flower back at him, and Harlock didn’t voice his doubt. Tochiro followed it with a flash of Yama’s face, eyes wide with wonder, looking out at the depths of the sea, and Harlock huffed, focusing pointedly on the horizon.

He still could hardly have missed when Yama emerged from belowdecks once more, the crew flowing around him with obvious curiosity as he took in everything.

Yama looked up, meeting Harlock’s gaze, and smiled slightly, looking a bit awkward. Harlock lifted a hand in invitation, and Yama’s smile widened as he crossed the deck towards the stairs.

* * *

“It may be a less than easy trip.” Harlock warned once more as he led Yama away from the more open slopes where his crew were beginning to disperse. Enjoying the time ashore, even if it was on an uninhabited island; perhaps more than they would at a true port, in some cases, Harlock thought wryly.

Yama looked at him, not quite frowning. “You suggested you could bring me to a healthy saxatile pinus asparagales stelliform specimen. I challenge you to find a path I would be unwilling to trek.” he said dryly.

Harlock snorted, feeling his lips twitching. “Of course. I can’t promise, you know. . .” he cautioned, with some regret.

“Harlock.” Yama said, with a faint smile, putting a hand on Harlock’s forearm. “You’ve brought me across the ocean, I’m _sure_ taking your ship off course, simply on the chance you could help me find a viable sapling. I deeply hope it is a saxatile pinus asparagales stelliform, but . . . even if it is not, I appreciate this very much.”

Harlock cleared his throat, nodding once. Yama’s smile widened and he squeezed Harlock’s arm.

“Now. _Where is it?_ ” Yama asked eagerly, looking around.

Harlock chuckled and put a hand on Yama’s waist, nudging him in the direction of the lagoon, hidden amidst the almost gravity-defying low peaks. The sapling that Yama so desperately wished to find was not to be found in the sheltered lagoon itself, but it was rather near. They would certainly be fighting their way through the forbidding, thick growth of the forest in the unplottable area that surrounded it.

Yama had not, however, been lying about his fortitude, nor his eagerness; he kept up eagerly and several times Harlock had to draw him back with caution.

“You know, it wasn’t long ago you were threatening me because of _my_ crashing unwarily through the jungle.” Harlock said dryly, pulling Yama up just as some of the rocks slipped beneath his boots, rolling down the slope a few paces before they began spiralling up past them. Yama’s breath caught and he twisted, looking up at Harlock. “There are some . . . magnetic anomalies in the bedrock here. They won’t affect anything but the rock,” he paused, “or mag engines.”

“Good to know.” Yama said slowly, stepping cautiously away from Harlock - he realised his arm was still around Yama’s waist and released him immediately. “I wonder. . . The foliage looks unaffected, but you would think such a powerful magnetic effect would have some effect on the soil, and the plants growing in it. . .”

“I wouldn’t know.” Harlock admitted, putting a hand on Yama’s shoulder and guiding him towards the sapling. “We’re almost to your plant. Pinus asparagales?”

“Yes, yes, that’s- Oh!” Yama darted ahead, and Harlock hurried after him, though _this time_ , at least, his steps were clear. And Harlock could see exactly where he was going.

Yama dropped to his knees, sliding his satchel off his shoulder to rest on the ground beside him, hands stretching out towards the spiky sapling.

Harlock followed, not too close, and watched as Yama inspected it, fingers barely making contact.

“Is it your plant?” Harlock asked quietly after a few minutes, and startled as Yama lunged to his feet and hugged Harlock tight. He tensed, reaching awkwardly to pat Yama’s side, breathless, and Yama pulled back.

“Yes! Thank you!” Yama turned away immediately; Harlock barely caught a flash of his smile before he was back down by the plant, pulling out an unfamiliar instrument from his satchel.

“You are most welcome.” Harlock said softly, watching Yama as he took careful stock of the plant, measuring it and noting things down in both a notebook and a small record-keeper. He tested the rock and the dirt nearby, making more notes, and Harlock leaned against a tall tree, his gaze mostly remaining on Yama.

Eventually he was evidently satisfied, and began the process of carefully taking a cutting, settling it in a rocky soil mixture in a pot he produced from his satchel and cradling it in his arms as he rose.

“You have what you need?” Harlock asked, pushing away from the tree and moving towards Yama again.

“I have what I wanted.” Yama said, almost cuddling the pot to his chest. “ _Thank you_ , Harlock. I cannot- You cannot _imagine_. . .” He almost cooed as he bent his head over his potted cutting, a small sapling in its own right. “We’d best return to the ship, I should get this squared away as soon as possible.”

“Certainly.” Harlock agreed, taking Yama’s arm to steady him as they made their way down from. The climb halfway up the rocky peak to where the sapling grew had been rather easier, in this case, given Yama had his arms full of the bulky pot and sapling now and refused to so much as loosen his grip on it.

They were at least halfway back to the ship - the trek was so winding and obscured that Harlock could only guess from his connection to the Arcadia - when Harlock paused, feeling a frisson of unease. Yama took another step, then turned.

“Harlock?” he asked, and Harlock shook his head.

“There’s something. . .”

The ground was rumbling beneath Harlock’s boots, an almost _rattling_ noise.

“ _Yama_ ,” Harlock barked, pivoting and lunging as the rock shuddered beneath them, the rumbles growing louder, building into a rough grinding sound, “back to the shore! The ship! Now!”

Yama moved towards Harlock, then jerked back, turning back the way they had been heading, holding the sapling in his arms higher.

The ground erupted, rock and shattering wood flying around them, pelting his face and bouncing off his cloak, blocking his view of Yama as a great wurm broke up beyond the surface. Harlock twisted, throwing his weight to one side and scrambling up the cascading rock as the creature rose higher still.

He drew his pistol as he skidded, staying on his feet on the rockslide and searching out Yama as his pistol whirred quietly, building up a larger charge. Harlock fired once the moment he heard the thrum of it reaching maximum power - the wurm writhed, thrashing abruptly, but its jaws were no longer snapping at ground level - and _then_ he found Yama, arms held close, just beginning to topple from a ridge of broken rock down towards where the wurm’s head was digging new grooves into the earth.

Harlock shot again, a lower powered jolt this time, forcing it back - towards the narrow crevasse in the earth that they had carefully avoided on their way down. It roared, painfully loud, as more of its body rose, and Harlock lunged for Yama, catching him in both arms and hauling him away from the lashing of the wurm’s body. _  
_  
Yama didn’t cry out, but Harlock heard a half-strangled groan from him as they skidded across the earth. Harlock raised his head, wanting to check on Yama but looking to see if the wurm was reaching for them again - its jaws were snapping, but it was sliding away, further towards that jagged gap back down into the depths of the earth, and Harlock let out a shallow breath of relief.

He frowned as he shook his head, putting a little distance between himself and Yama and looking him over. His arms were folded around-

Around the little sapling in its pot, still tight against his chest. The pistol he had so easily threatened Harlock with was sheathed at his hip, still held in place with the small leather strap.

“You have a pistol!” Harlock said, rising and pulling Yama to his feet along with himself. “Did you even _think_ of using it?” He brushed Yama down, heart still racing, checking him for injuries more than knocking off dirt.

“Oh good! You’re all right.” Yama said, voice warm with relief. He stroked the little sapling in its pot with one hand, thumb brushing over one bowed, whippy branch. Calming a little as he glanced around to see the wurm’s tail sliding away, Harlock smothered a wry laugh, sliding a hand down Yama’s shoulder and arm. At least he seemed to be fine, then. “Thank you.”

Harlock stilled as Yama looked up at him. Yama smiled, cradling the pot against his chest.

“Well.” Harlock cleared his throat. “You- That is- I’m glad you and the sapling are both all right. We should still hurry back to the ship, however.” he said just as the wurm reached the crevasse, toppling over the jagged edge into its depths.

“Of course!” Yama all but crooned to the sapling as Harlock drew him along, away from the crashing noises of the great wurm tumbling further down the narrow crevasse nearby.

It was . . . _usually_ safe on this island; Harlock had been aware the great burrowing creatures lived deep in the bedrock, but they rarely came even near enough the surface to cause tremors - much less to actually _emerge_.

Harlock shuddered and picked up speed, keeping careful track of Yama as he hurried along at Harlock’s side. It was . . . _unlikely_ they’d be attacked again, but then, it had been unlikely in the first place.

Harlock wouldn’t quite be able to relax until the Arcadia’s deck was squarely under his boots again.

* * *

Completing his last check - everyone was on board as they should be; Yattaran hadn’t thought anyone would be missing, but it needed checking - Yattaran shook his head, crossing to the edge of the deck where Kei was leaning forwards, hips cocked, arms folded on the rail.

A brush of his fingers over her lower back as he joined her and Kei shifted her weight, nudging into his hand and turning to smile at him.

There was a loud crash of rock and earth from the island, and Yattaran winced, patting the rail appreciatively. The Arcadia continued on its way out into open water, and Kei turned her back to the rail, lounging against it and sweeping a look over the deck.

“So do you think we’ll be taking any more side trips, or getting back to making our rendezvous on time?” Kei asked, fingers flicking up his arm before she leaned sideways against him.

“Probably depends on whether our . . . _passenger_ has any more stops to make.” Yattaran suggested dryly, eyes straying to the skinny academic across the deck, near the stairs up to the command deck. He was still cradling the pot, holding a skinny little evergreen sapling, he had been carrying since he and the captain returned to the ship. “Maybe you should ask the captain.”

“Maybe I should.” Kei said, though she made no move to do so, winding one arm around Yattaran’s shoulders. “How do you think he managed to pick up a _passenger_ on an uninhabited island, anyway?”

“There was a research ship anchored on the other side of the island.” Yattaran told her, watching as their captain stood at the helm, hands moving over the wheel with little to no attention paid. He had to be grateful the Arcadia didn’t really seem to _need_ their captain - or anyone - to direct it, because he was. . . Yattaran followed his gaze and was not surprised to find it resting on their passenger. “How _we_ wound up with one of the scientists on board, though. . .”

Kei laughed a little, leaning into him. “Pretty out of character for our captain. . . _He_ is not a new recruit.”

“He could be.” Yattaran said, but couldn’t quite keep a straight face. Kei snickered and hip-checked him, straightening and flicking her fingers at him as she strode across the deck.

Yattaran shook his head, taking a moment to admire her as she all but strutted towards the stairs, then got back to work himself.

* * *

They did not, as it happened, get back to their plotted route. Yattaran wasn’t particularly bothered if they missed the meet-up as planned, but he did wonder what their captain planned now. Kei laughed at him and pushed him out of their bunk to go find out, and knowing she was wearing nothing but her robe and going back to bed made it no easier to drag himself away.

Still, he felt responsible to some degree. He could rejoin Kei as soon as he had found out what three quarters of the crew had been curiously murmuring about since they’d picked Yama up on a fairly routine stop at shore. Yattaran went in search of their captain, finding him without much difficulty in his saloon, along with Miime.

“We’ll have to return Yama to his university - his home,” Harlock corrected, tilting his tumbler in one hand, “of course.”

“. . .of course.” Yattaran glanced sideways at Miime, draped over her habitual chaise longue, reaching for the decanter for herself. “Where is that?”

“Martius.” Harlock supplied, and Yattaran twitched.

“. . . _Martius?_ We’re sailing _the Arcadia_ into port in Martius?” Yattaran demanded, his voice a little louder than he’d intended.

Harlock put his tumbler down. “It’s where Yama needs to return; his university will be waiting for him.”

“Martius, the centre where all the Gaia Coalition’s naval military is based?” Yattaran demanded, mind spinning. The _Arcadia_. With _Harlock_ at the helm, who was- “You cannot possibly- The _idea_ \- We _can’t sail into the port at Martius_.”

“It’s where we’re going.” Harlock said, and Yattaran had never . . . _really_ been uneasy around his captain but. . . He stepped back, suddenly unable to find words. “We’re already on course. We will be there in less than three weeks.”

Yattaran swallowed thickly, nodding, and excused himself, making his way back to his bunk feeling like he was under the weight of pending execution.

. . .hell, if they were sailing to Martius, he _might be_.

Yattaran groaned as he opened the door, preparing himself for Kei’s reaction to the news.

* * *

“Do you think he realises?” Kei asked, pulling the slide from the backup electrolic system of her favourite gun. Yattaran hummed, sighting along the blade of his axe and then glancing at his lover. She gestured at Yama, who was walking opposite them on the deck, cuddling the pot holding his scrawny sapling.

“That he’s on board a _pirate_ ship, or that our captain is smitten with him?” Yattaran asked dryly.

Kei tipped her head back, laughing, and Yattaran lowered his axe as he watched her, smiling fondly. Calming down after a moment, Kei grinned at him and jerked her head towards-

Ah, the captain. Watching Yama, of course. With a _very_ smitten look on his face. Harlock was on the command deck, but neither at the wheel nor in his throne; he was leaning against the rail and looking down at Yama.

“Does he not _realise_ , or does he just . . . not _care_ , do you think?” Yattaran asked, nodding towards their captain.

Kei shrugged speakingly. “He rarely looks away from that plant of his . . . but when he does it’s almost always towards the captain.” she pointed out, lips curving.

Yattaran laughed. That was true, at least to his observations; even when Miime had deigned to speak with him the day before, Yama had mostly been absorbed in watching his little sapling.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Yattaran frowned, letting his axe settle to rest against the deck as he looked up.

“What?” Kei asked, shifting and crossing her ankles beside him.

“I just realised why _he looks familiar_.” Mitsuran said, looking more and more drawn by the moment.

“He’s been on board for more than two weeks?” Yattaran suggested dryly.

“No, he’s-” Mitsuran shook his head, leaning close. “He’s the Praefactus’ _younger brother_.”

Yattaran’s fingers tightened on the handle of his axe.

“What?” Kei asked, voice low and sharp.

“I used to _live_ in the Gaia Coalition,” Mitsuran said, which Yattaran had remembered - he remembered where every member of their crew had come from, at least what they had shared and where they came aboard, “and I remember- Look, if you’re in their territory, especially if you’re around the Legion you can’t miss the news highlighting the Praefectus, his entire _family_ \- and _that’s_ his younger brother!” he muttered, shaking his head.

“. . .no wonder we’re having to take him back to Martius.” Yattaran said softly. “Of course that’s where the Praefectus and his family live.”

“Well, ye- Wait, _we’re_ going to Martius?” Mitsuran asked, sitting down hard on the deck beside them. “ _Us?_ This ship?”

“The captain set our course, yes.” Kei confirmed. “He hasn’t shared with any of the rest of us how he plans to get the Arcadia in _and out_ of the port.”

Yattaran would very much like to know that, since he couldn’t imagine any level of disguise actually hiding everything that was so stunningly _obvious_ about their ship - even if it were possible. Yattaran had a feeling the Arcadia would . . . _resist_ being disguised. Somehow.

“We- We _can’t_.” Mitsuran said faintly.

“ _You_ tell the captain we’d be better off throwing him overboard. I’m half certain I heard him _sigh wistfully_ this morning.” Yattaran said, rubbing his face. “While he was pointing out we’re _pirates_ , we don’t have to be anywhere on time if we don’t feel like it. So we’re going to Martius. Somehow.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Kei said almost flippantly, and Yattaran glared at her. She snorted, shoving her knee against his leg as she returned to the task of cleaning and maintaining her gun.

Yattaran eyed their passenger. Yama was still holding his sapling in its pot, but Harlock had joined him on the main deck now. The two of them stood close together, Harlock leaning in and almost blocking Yama from the rest of the deck; Yama looking up with his head tilted to one side.

“If only we could just . . . _keep_ him on board. Indefinitely.” Yattaran muttered. “That would simplify things.”

So many things, really, he suspected.

Unfortunately. . . Keeping the Praefactus’ brother aboard the Arcadia was not really feasible either, Yattaran thought regretfully.

* * *

Harlock had known it was coming, but he still felt a pang when Martius came within sight. A pang that whispered temptation to turn his ship away and never return, not if-

Tochiro murmured in the back of his mind, and Harlock sighed, shaking his head and running a hand over the wheel. “No. Take us in.” he said softly. “As discreetly as we can.”

Miime put a hand on his forearm, nodding understanding just as the Arcadia rumbled beneath his feet, and Harlock sighed.

Tochiro cut between the other ships, great and small, clogging the huge main port of Martius. They had given the main port of the actual armada, some two leagues further down the coastline, a wide berth, but there were still many Gaia Legion ships around them, along with private trading vessels, some few foreign ships, and privateers.

Harlock trailed his fingers along the rail as the Arcadia creaked beneath his boots, looking down to the main deck. Yama stood there with his precious sapling in his arms, his satchel slung across his back and his pistol in its place at his hip. Harlock’s throat tightened as his gaze lingered on Yama.

Moving up towards the bow, Yama cradled his sapling in its pot in one arm and let his other hand rest on the rail. Tochiro murmured in the back of Harlock’s mind. Yama was telling the Arcadia where he could return to shore to slip back off to his university. It made Harlock smile, faint and rueful; Yama had taken to life on the Arcadia and the life of the ship swiftly and with surprising ease.

Tochiro followed Yama’s direction, and Harlock was distantly aware of some people on ships they passed staring at the Arcadia. Harlock touched his fingers to the carven skull on the banister at the top of the stairs, then along the bones beneath it as he descended.

To say goodbye.

“Thank you so much, Harlock.” Yama said sincerely, clasping Harlock’s forearm, then bringing his hand back, cradling the pot. “Without you. . .”

“I’m glad to,” Harlock paused pointedly, “have been able to offer recompense for the _neglectful destruction_ I mistakenly wrought.”

Yama laughed, ducking his head, and Harlock smiled. “And I am glad to have met you.”

“And I you.” Yama returned softly, voice warm, still lingering by Harlock’s side even as the Arcadia extended a gangplank towards the dock. “Not only for your help finding a new saxatile pinus asparagales stelliforiceae.”

“I am pleased to hear it.” Harlock said, eye straying past Yama briefly. Several people in impractically white uniforms were heading down the dock towards the Arcadia. “Though I suspect I could do worse than to be connected to such a plant, in your eyes.”

Yama laughed, and Harlock clasped his hand once more, briefly. “Goodbye, Yama. I am most lucky to have met you.”

“I. . . Goodbye, Harlock.” Yama said, very quiet, bowing his head. And then he turned and strode down the gangplank with confident steps, breezing past the uniformed people and making them hesitate, turning to look after him and glancing back at the Arcadia.

Harlock tapped the rail and the gangplank withdrew swiftly, the railing rising into place once it was secure and the ship already beginning to pull away from the shore. There would be no protests about the lack of time at port this time, Harlock suspected - no one truly wished to get off the ship _here_.

Not this ship. Harlock felt a flash of amusement as Tochiro’s affront rippled through his mind and the Arcadia groaned, ticking rapidly as the ship picked up speed. It was rather impolite this far into port, but Harlock was less than concerned. The Arcadia never hit anything unintentionally, and they would not even be lingering in this port.

Nor returning to it. Harlock crossed the deck and climbed the stairs to the command deck, sinking into his chair.

* * *

Yama ensured he had everything in his bag, then picked up his saxatile pinus asparagales stelliforiceae in its pot, cradling it in one arm and restraining the impulse to smile smugly as he passed by Professor Fucile’s door.

All of Yama’s colleagues, of course, had been just as eager to find such a specimen as Yama himself - but Yama was the only one who _had_. And much as they might wish to press the issue, it was _his_ plant and remained in his care, and until such a time as he judged it safe, there would be no cuttings taken either.

Yama fingered one pale blue petal, making his way down the long, narrow stairs out one of the side doors from the botany department. He had named the plant Roger.

Something made the back of his neck prickle, and Yama tensed, raising his head and sweeping a careful look around for whatever had-

“Hello!”

Yama jumped as an arm slid around his shoulders, twisting to see-

“Kei?” Yama’s eyes widened. “What are you _doing_ -” He broke off with a breathless huff as Kei’s arm tightened and a hand caught his arm, dragging him almost off his feet and up with a stumble. He narrowly caught himself before he - and Roger - could fall to the floor of . . . a carriage?

Yama dropped onto the bench, staring at Yattaran as he closed up the door and sat opposite. “What- Where are we going?” he asked as the carriage picked up speed suddenly. “Who’s driving?”

“It’s an automata drive.” Kei supplied, settling beside Yattaran and crossing her legs. Yama eyed her with some surprise; she was wearing a dusky rose dress rather than the shocking pink bodysuit he had seen her in on board the Arcadia. Yattaran had changed as well, though not as drastically, wearing a dressy grey coat and a fine hat. Without the skull and crossbones emblem.

“. . .where are you _taking_ me?” Yama asked, frowning. “Why did you come back here at all?”

“We came back here, against better judgement I might add. . .” Yattaran said, pointing at him sternly.

“Oh knock it off, it’s not exactly his fault.” Kei elbowed Yattaran. “We came here _for_ you, Yama.”

Yama blinked. “Why?” he asked, cradling Roger a little closer to his chest. He thought of the Arcadia, the time he had spent on it; mostly with Harlock, but sometimes with these two, or Miime. . . He had enjoyed his time there.

“We’re taking you back to the Arcadia.” Yattaran said firmly, and Yama stilled, mouth partially open.

“You. . .”

“If you will agree to come with us.” Yattaran continued, leaning to one side and looking through one of the narrow windows.

“Our captain has been _brooding_ since you left.” Kei said, and Yattaran ducked his head, trailing a fingertip around the edges of one of Roger’s petals. “. . .more than usual for the captain.”

“We didn’t think that was _possible_ , but it seems so.” Yattaran huffed, crossing his arms.

“He misses you.” Kei said with a tiny smile, propping her chin in her palm.

“You were good company while you were aboard, and you settled in well.” Yattaran said, and Yama smiled slightly. He’d gotten on well with them from _his_ perspective, but it was good to hear it hadn’t only been him. And . . . he’d missed the Arcadia, despite how short a time he had actually spent on board.

He’d missed _Harlock_.

“Would you consider coming back?” Yattaran asked, and Yama hugged Roger’s pot to his chest, shocked. “At least for a while? A visit?”

“I,” Yama paused, looking away, eyes falling on one of the curtains blocking out any view of his home city as the automata drive of the carriage brought them further and further from his university, “. . .yes, I would like to see the Arcadia again.”

Yattaran made a scoffing noise and Yama frowned. “And- Harlock.” he admitted.

“ _Good._ ” Kei said, slouching backwards into the bench. “This incredibly foolish trip will not have been useless, then.”

“Where _is_ the Arcadia? Did Harlock. . .” Yama felt his cheeks warm.

“The ship should be docking up the coast at . . . well, the port - such as it is - doesn’t really have a name, but it’s hidden in Starfall Cove; we meet up with some traders there to deal . . . rarely.” Yattaran sneered. “It’s closer than we usually like to come to Martius, but on occasion it is worth it to the captain.”

“Luckily for us, because this was tricky enough to arrange _with_ that planned.” Kei said with a laugh. “But now we can take you-”

“Oh!” Yama shook his head, leaning back a little more and settling Roger on his lap. “I can’t. . .”

“Not to stay!” Kei assured him.

“Just for a while. Perhaps a few weeks? The Arcadia will be remaining near enough to easily arrange bringing you back.” Yattaran assured him, and Yama shook his head reluctantly.

“No, my brother. . . If I leave with you, if I _leave_ with no word. . .” Yama rubbed the edge of Roger’s pot.

“Your brother . . . the Praefactus.” Yattaran said, and Yama lifted his head, smiling tightly.

“We have a telecomm on board the Arcadia.” Kei said, narrowing her eyes. “If you could get word to your brother, give him an excuse,” she paused, “would that be good enough?”

“I do _not_ want-”

“I can do that.” Yama said, a little breathless. “I’ll tell him. . .” He could tell Isola he had been recruited to help one of his colleagues, was going on a trip on short notice, would be wrapped up in research - Isola wouldn’t know enough to find fault with that. Yama had been staying at the university to work on projects, or called into the field to help with others, since before he had earned his own degree. Isola was used to that. “That will work!”

“Good.” Kei said, settling back and crossing her legs. “Then let’s get you back to our captain.” She winked, and Yama startled, then felt his cheeks warm with a flush.

Yattaran laughed, loud and startling, and then swung around, opening one front window and leaning through it to fiddle with the automata drive.

It carried them quite some way up the coast after leaving the city, but not so far as Yama might have expected - he had, perhaps, heard a few of his colleagues discussing, quietly, the acquisition of . . . less than aboveboard resources for some of their projects.

“We won’t actually go so far as the market down there, unless you have a particular need to go yourself.” Yattaran said, and Yama shook his head, swinging out of the carriage and down onto the rough road. Yattaran was still talking, but Yama wasn’t quite paying attention any more, eyes fixed on the dark ship floating just offshore. There was a dark figure on the command deck in a billowing cloak, and Yama could just see Tori-san flying around him.

Yama’s heart fluttered, yearning out to sea, as he just . . . took in the sight, suddenly eager to feel the Arcadia’s decks beneath his boots again - to see _Harlock_ again.

**Author's Note:**

> Incidentally while it's somewhat adjusted, the name of the tree Yama is so attached to is related to real Latin, including scientific names.
> 
> Saxatile - living/growing among rocks  
> Pinus - the genus under which pines fall  
> Asparagales - the order under which the family orchidaceae (orchids) fall  
> Stelliform - star-shaped, referring to the flowers
> 
> (the last of which I altered for the sound of it, to include a further nod towards orchidaceae)


End file.
